


Speilhur/Cured - A part of a new episde

by Darkchrisbarrieblood



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Buried Alive, Other, RDXII Spoilers, Spielhur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 19:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12439563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkchrisbarrieblood/pseuds/Darkchrisbarrieblood
Summary: Rimmer and Crystal, on the hologram planet/haven spot a small child answering to young Arnold’s description. As Crystal seems to be able to see his mind, she realises what had happened to him.





	Speilhur/Cured - A part of a new episde

**Author's Note:**

> This will be in a new episode I am planning (probably episode 3) so if things do not make sense yet I'm sorry.   
> I got inspiration from Rammstein’s Spielhur and Red Dwarf XII episode Cured

As Rimmer and Crystal began walking through the forest area, they found a small child about 5 years old. He sat on a felled log, seeming dirty and pale and holding a small wooden box. He seemed to look at the floor and had no interest in his surroundings. He seemed to answer Arnold’s description.   
“Oh, you must be new. Who are you?” Crystal asked, Rimmer staying back in case it was another form of him or it became hostile.  
The child didn’t speak, simply holding the small box. He had no H and seemed to be in rather old clothes.  
“Will you let me see how you got here?” She asked,   
The child nodded and allowed Crystal to touch his head.

_Arnold continued to be ignored by his family; never seeming to be able to get a word in.He’d been sent to his room to revise, although there not being much left academically for him to form a skill in. He sat at his table and looked out at his brother’s playing, sighing as he knew he’d never be them. He looked around his desk for something to do. Something to play with even if it pleased him only for a moment.  He looked on his shelves; most of the toys there were broken or his brothers. Then, he spotted something which hadn’t been touched. A small music box; wooden (probably oak) with hearts engravd into it at a later date. Maybe it was his mothers? He didn’t care, he picked it up and played it. Its tune was sweet but seemed sort of sad, as if it was meant to make a child sad not happy. He sat on his bed and played with it. He remembered a story about a music box which his borthers had told him a few nights before; a child with a music box had played dead because he wanted to be alone. They had said that the ghost of the small boy haunted the house, which they had played on since Arnold had taken notice of the story. This, at this moment in time, seemed to please him. Why not pretend to die? That way he could see if anyone would actually care; whether anyone would be sympathetic. He’d found a way of knocking himself out, hopefully making it convincing to them that he’d died. He would wake up in the medi-hopsital and tell them everything, hopefully getting taken from them and finally achieving his dreams; being free from those toxic parents._

_When he woke up, he realised he wasn’t in hospital. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He was in some form of box, holding the music box in his hands. He shivered, trying to shout for help. He knew the child in the story had been killed, but wasn’t sure how. Then he remembered,  
“Being buried alive?! That’s the worst way to die!” He said to himself, banging on the box he was in; one hand firmly on the music box.  After an hour of banging on the box, he panted and decided it was pointless. He played the box to himself, trying to think of the words to it.  He hummed the tune. _

_After several weeks of being in the box, he hoped someone would find out where he was. He knew he was underground somewhere as it became cold, worms would come into the box and would often try to eat him. He’d screamed so much, he felt as though his throat didn’t exist. He sighed deeply, knowing his mother and father didn’t care. He opened the box and let it play. Its tune both calming him and upsetting him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it anymore but it seemed to be the only way; the boxes tiny lungs he hoped would be loud enough. He decided to faintly sing the words he’d made up, ‘Up and down little rider, my heart beats no more….’_  
As almost by a miracle, he heard scratching above the box. He hoped it wasn’t a mole or some legendary creature coming to eat him. He shivered more, not taking his hands from the box. To his surprise, a familiar face found him and lifted him up, holding him closely,  
“What did you think you were doing burying him like that?”  
“We thought he was dead!”   
“You have to get him checked first you idiots.” The person held him closer; Arnold feeling the warmth of the person.   
“Well, he shouldn’t have played dead.”  
“You two aren’t adequate parents. I will remove him from your care immediately.” 

“So, Ace saved you?” Crystal asked, smiling a little as she was proud of her father,  
Arnold opened the box; revealing a rather small heart, he said quietly, “not this time.”  
Crystal gapsed, looking at his face; he was pale and his eyes were dark. He _was_ dead.  
“He was too late. He didn’t hear the box. He didn’t remember. He had you to do.”  
Crystal stepped back, hoping Rimmer was safe, “Listen, its not my fault. I never even knew about this.”  
“If you hadn’t been here. None of this would have happened. I would stull be alive, turning into what I wanted to be. Instead, I died.”   
“You want to come back with us?” She said, pointing to Rimmer who appeared from behind the tree.  
“I suppose.” The child said, holding the box tightly. He walked ahead beside Rimmer, looking at Crystal sadly.

(....)


End file.
